The Seven Levels of Purgatory
by thelittletree
Summary: What happened to Zelda during the seven years Link was held in the Sacred Realm? Impa hides the princess in the safest place she can think of, and not even Zelda can imagine the growing up she will have to do.
1. Escape

Disclaimer: I don't own anything even remotely related to _The Legend of Zelda_. I've actually only played through _Ocarina of Time_ and _Majora's Mask_, so I'm not even a true devotee. Don't sue.

Escape

by: thelittletree

(The idea of the Sheikah interested me from the beginning, and this fic has been sitting on my computer for so long. I thought I'd give it a whirl. The question that started it all is: where _did_ Zelda go for seven years while Link was in the Sacred Realm? I tried to answer to the best of my imagination.)

* * *

Impa was late. And not just late, but _late_. 

Zelda ran cold, nerveless fingers over the ocarina, marvellously smooth and spectacularly ancient, and knew she lingered automatically over the holes in the song her guardian had taught her. She was too uneasy, and too familiar with the comfort the notes had always brought to her to prevent herself from re-memorizing the tune at will. Though the presence of the instrument was less a comfort than a burden now.

Ganondorf wanted it.

She took a breath, and then let it out slowly. Impa had taught her how to deal with fear, too; the day her father had been busy and she'd been pale and sick and trembling about being presented at court. Impa had put her large hands on a young princess' shoulders and had fixed her charge with dark eyes determined, inflexible, infallible. Gently in, princess, breathe. Gently out. Her body was a machine for her mind; fear was a conquerable temptation with a little self-control. Gently in, breathe. Gently out. And she could've burst into music to drown out the growing storm.

The ocarina was still and silent in her hand, and for the first time Zelda couldn't imagine any life-force inside of it. It had no inherent will, no good, no evil. This magical little music-maker would have allowed the male Gerudo bandit to pass through the walls of time, granting him access to the Sacred Realm. Zelda didn't know much about the old legends, except for the bits and pieces her Sheikah guardian had told her in stories, but it was enough to make her sure that Ganondorf's evil presence there would spell doom for the Kingdom of Hyrule, as well as the rest of the world.

She swallowed uncomfortably in her snug corset as her stomach churned and mindlessly started to faux-play Impa's song again. She was sorry now that she'd overeaten at the dining table, but Impa had urged her to fill herself. They didn't know what was coming, her guardian had said, and if they were forced to flee there would be no time to stop along the way.

Impa had also told her to stay on her bed, so that's where she'd remained from that moment, and would remain until her guardian returned; but now she was beginning to look around her large, royal room and recognize all of the things she would be leaving behind when they fled, maybe forever. Trinkets, clothing, gifts, heirlooms; the heavy mirror had been her mother's. One day she'd hoped to grow up and look into it and imagine that her mother had done the same thing.

Sheikah logic would tell her that survival was more important than a mirror, than memories, than worrying about growing up without the expected mould. She couldn't see her reflection from here; it was still hard to let go of the dream.

Impa had explained that it was dangerous to stay much longer in the castle. Ganondorf was finally making his move. Zelda could almost sense in moments of spiking panic his presence downstairs in the main hall where he was probably battling her father's guards. Impa had described his lust for power, how it gave him unnatural strength, and had said it wouldn't be long before he overpowered the King's forces and came looking for her, Zelda.

Zelda patted her blue silk headdress back into place and then went on to smooth her dress free of clinging wrinkles. She had always known somehow that she was different; when it had upset her, Impa had reassured her with the old reminder that she had a destiny and her early maturity and depth of wisdom were necessary to fulfilling that destiny. Friends were not important. When Zelda had asked once about the instances of telepathy she'd been discovering, Impa had shook her head and told her it was not time for her to know.

Impa usually prided herself on being punctual. Zelda wet her lips, wondering if, perhaps, Ganondorf had found her. Impa was strong, stronger than anyone Zelda had yet met, but was she stronger than Ganondorf? What if she'd been killed? What would the princess do then?

Impa would want her to leave, she knew immediately, to run away from the castle, to escape Ganondorf. She shivered a little. Could she do it alone? On foot she wouldn't have a chance against him and his black horse, but…

A tap on her bedroom window jerked her out of her thoughts, and she whirled around on the bed. It was dark; there was a storm brewing in the clouds. The rain hadn't started yet, but a premature flash of lightning appeared, illuminating a figure in the window. Impa.

Zelda ran to the window and threw it open, almost refreshed by the tense, moisture-heavy gust of wind that chilled her through her clothing. A rumble of thunder rolled through her bedroom.

"Come, Princess," Impa urged quietly, her Sheikan accent making her words thick. Her white hair was still pulled back into its vicious ponytail, undisturbed by the weather, accentuating her angular face and the shadows, like doubt, in her normally impenetrable expression.

Zelda scrambled onto the window sill and, making sure not to look down, clambered into Impa's arms. In a moment, she was wrapping her small legs around Impa's waist and clutching at her guardian's shoulders. Impa quickly climbed down the vine she had ascended, long muscles stretching like a cat's. Soon they were on the ground and Ganondorf was none the wiser. Zelda looked around the darkness of the courtyard.

Fidel, her white horse, the one her father had given her as a present not even a year ago, grazing in the grass not far away. Before Zelda could ask a question, Impa took her hand and led her at a run over grass and flagstones alike. At Fidel's side, she lifted Zelda into the saddle and then mounted behind the princess, swinging her leg over with the grace of a leopard.

She slapped the reins lightly against Fidel's neck and they started into a quiet trot out of the courtyard and then around the castle, toward the gate. As they passed the stables, however, Zelda heard a shout from above. She glanced automatically up to the battlements of the palace, her stomach clenching with a strange, instinctive fear.

It was very dark now; the storm clouds had blackened the sky as if with festering bruises. Then a brilliant flash of lightning illuminated a figure standing on the wall. Zelda didn't have to see him clearly to know it was Ganondorf. She recognized the stanched, rotted feeling he exuded, as if he was a dead man in a living body. Just as the lightning faded, he threw himself down from the battlements with a harsh cry, followed closely by a bellow of thunder. Zelda choked back her scream as he landed less than a foot from them; would've landed _on_ them if not for Impa's quick action.

With an inhuman-sounding growl, Ganondorf rolled to his feet. Impa didn't look back as she whipped the reigns against Fidel, urging him into a full run. Zelda twisted to watch as Ganondorf ran into the stables and then came out a moment later, riding his black horse in pursuit. Zelda shuddered and hid the sight behind the comforting form of Impa, huddling into her guardian as if she was cold, which she might well have been. She didn't need to watch to know that the black horse was catching up, its massive hooves pounding mercilessly on the cobblestones, its flared nostrils showing the inky depths of endless voids.

"You can't escape!" Ganondorf shouted from behind them.

Impa merely continued to whip Fidel with the reins, her face as impassive as stone. As they rode toward the bridge leading out onto the plains of Hyrule, the shops and houses of the town passing by in a shadowy, unfamiliar blur, the skies opened up, crying for the kingdom. Zelda squinted against the heavy droplets and leaned in closer to Fidel, almost lying down on the horse's sweet hay-scented mane. It calmed her almost into her own mind again. Yes, they were going to get away. It was the only answer that made sense.

The bridge thudded hollowly under Fidel's hooves as they thundered across. Then something ahead of them caught Zelda's eye.

It was the fairy boy.

He stared for a moment, open-mouthed, before fleeing out of range of Fidel's pumping legs. Zelda didn't know why he was there, but turned to watch him as they passed. And then she had an idea. Fumbling for the ocarina she had stuffed into her belt before climbing onto Impa's shoulders, she wrapped her cold fingers around it and pulled back her arm. Seeming to realize the princess's intent, Impa drew herself out of the way. And with a silent prayer to the guardians of the Sacred Realm, Zelda threw the instrument. It twirled, glinted as it flew through the air until it disappeared into the moat.

The boy had inevitably turned to watch its arc. Zelda's eyes returned to trace the way he stood, the pattern on his shield, until he was out of sight.

Take care, fairy boy...Link...

* * *

Impa kept them riding through the night. Zelda dozed fitfully, waking again and again from murky nightmares to find that they were still on the move. At first, it was almost impossible to see anything in the dark, but eventually the rain let up and the clouds drifted apart to reveal the moon in scattered patches. 

Shadows flitted past Zelda's peripheral vision, making her jump before she had a chance to get a good look at them. She had never been outside of the castle walls; she had never even been in the courtyard after sunset. And now, here she was, riding on Fidel with her guardian in a forest in the darkest hours of night.

_Yes,_ she reminded herself_, I'm with my guardian. I will be all right. I don't want to show her my fear; I want to be strong. I will be strong, for my father, for my kingdom, for Hyrule. For Link. He'll need my strength. He'll need me to be strong, for him._

Link would destroy Ganondorf and return the castle to its former glory, the world to its past peace. It was destiny. Impa would take her back. And her father would honor Link the way he deserved. Maybe Link would be allowed to enter the castle to play with her sometimes. It would be good to have a real friend for once.

Zelda felt her head begin to droop suddenly as her eyes began to flutter shut. Resigned to her weariness, calmed for the moment without fears for the present, she leaned back against Impa's comforting bulk and succumbed again to a fitful sleep. Vaguely, she hoped the ride would be over by the time she awoke again.

* * *

Time is an unpredictable element. Sometimes an hour can pass like a day, a day like an hour. A good year will come to an end too quickly while a bad year stretches on, spreading its weary, toiling atmosphere to every creature in the world. 

To be sure, the year following the one in which Zelda fled the castle was a bad one.

Ganondorf returned to the kingdom and overpowered the King's forces with his supernatural strength. He slaughtered everyone, torturing a few mercilessly, demanding to know the whereabouts of Princess Zelda. But, of course, no one knew.

The King's head was placed on a post to rot. The people who had escaped the massacre fled the town for other places. As Ganondorf's evil grew, monsters began to roam the streets. Eventually, no one could even venture between villages; those who did either didn't return or came back spouting tales of spirits and haunting, alluring lights.

Ganondorf was never seen. The monsters he created, the destruction of the Kingdom of Hyrule, and the strange fire cloud over the volcano above Kokariko Village were the only evidence of him. At first there was talk of overthrowing the Evil King, but after several of the revolutionaries were found mysteriously dead the talk of rebellion stopped. And the people began to hope for some kind of a hero to rescue them.

Some said they had seen the Princess Zelda and her Sheikah guardian riding out of the town during the night the castle had been taken. Some spoke of her return, with an army, when she would retake the throne and peace would be restored.

And so the people endured, waiting, wishing on the last star, hoping against hope that a better time was coming.

Not many outside of the Kokiri village noticed the disappearance of a boy named Link.

The Kokiri wondered for awhile what had happened to him. They had been told long ago by the Deku Tree that they couldn't survive beyond the border of the village, so many of them believed Link's strange curiosity for the outside world had finally led him to his death. Whenever anyone asked Saria about his whereabouts, however, she merely gave an enigmatic, if wistful, smile, and looked away as if she could see him in the distance.

Malon, the daughter of Talon, owner of Lon Lon Ranch, wondered sometimes where the fairy boy she had met once had gone. The night Ingo kicked her father out of the ranch, threatening to harm his daughter if he didn't do as he was told, Malon prayed for the fairy boy's return. He had brought her father back to her before, surely he could do it again. She continued on at the ranch, unwilling to run away and leave it to the dishonourable Ingo; waiting for her father, praying for help, wondering where the boy had gone.

There was one, a diminutive princess in Zora's domain, who awaited the arrival of the fairy boy with something less than patience; waiting for the day he would return and make good on his promise to marry her. After half a year, she'd gotten angry at his long absence and had promised herself that she would wait no longer. And yet, she continued to wonder what had happened to him, and sometimes, in her humbler moments, praying for his safe return.

And yet, of all of these, there was one who wondered about his disappearance the most, waiting for the moment when she would have to come out of hiding and help defeat Ganondorf. Of all of those who looked to the heavens for an answer, she searched the stars most often, knowing how large a task she had set in front of a boy she hardly knew. It still surprised her now and again how much trust she had put in him. And yet, she remained sure that her trust had been well founded. The first moment she had set eyes on him had convinced her that he was the one sent to help. Surely fate was on his side.

And so the world held its breath, wondering, waiting, expecting. And Zelda waited.

And so a year passed.


	2. First Impressions

Disclaimer: I don't own anything even remotely related to _The Legend of Zelda_. I've actually only played through _Ocarina of Time_ and _Majora's Mask_, so I'm not even a true devotee. Don't sue.

First Impressions

by: thelittletree

(Thank you, Highwaywoman, for reviewing, even if this isn't about Vincent! Wow, I've really wandered away from the mould. And thank you, Larie-chan, for your review! I'm glad something I wrote could spark your interest. Hope the rest of this fic doesn't disappoint!)

* * *

Impa had never talked about it. Not once. Not that the princess had ever really thought to ask; her guardian had always let her understand the complete truth about everything that concerned her. Those things her guardian hadn't told her, Zelda had unquestioningly believed were non-issues. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" Zelda asked, not exactly sure if she should be upset by the omission. Adults, she'd been learning of late from her father _…oh father, where are you now?…_ had the tendency to think of childhood as a time of innocence to be preserved as long as possible. Zelda wasn't sure she agreed with that; and until this moment she'd been positive that Impa thought such precautions were redundant, even dangerous.

"Because, Princess, our village is hidden with magic." Impa swept a few strands of hair away from Zelda's temple with a deft finger and methodically continued with her brushing. "At all times, a guardian must value the responsibility of protecting his or her people as highly as they value the life of their charge."

"Their charge. You mean me?"

"Yes, Princess."

Zelda smiled to herself. "So you must value my life very highly to have kept the secret like you have."

"As you well know."

Zelda's smile widened and she automatically lifted her chin so Impa could work her hair into her coif.

The Sheikah, her guardian had told her one day, were not a people inclined to much emotion. They had a duty, dating back generations, to protect the royal family; they considered it their highest calling, and endeavoured to reflect such in their very way of life.

At the time, Zelda hadn't understood what Impa had been trying to tell her. She'd been young, she remembered, stifled by what had seemed like endless limitations, desperately missing the presence of a mother who had slipped away after her death a little bit at a time. Born into a position where even servants were silent and deferential, she had wanted, _needed_ to know if her guardian loved her. Impa had never been affectionate; she had never been particularly sensitive. As a guardian, she had merely had a duty to be constantly in attendance, diligently protective, and, when necessary, understanding and diffusive about the mounting problems of a young princess.

After that day, however, things had changed a little. When her father had stressed the importance of eloquence, or of learning the correct use of eating utensils, or proper posture, Impa had sometimes disobeyed. Without a word of explanation, instead of taking the princess to her lessons, she had snuck her into the garden to play. Her duty, she'd evidently discovered, had evolved to include keeping her charge's trust, and her best interests in mind.

Zelda had never needed to ask a question about love again.

"Do I have to come with you, though?" Zelda wondered finally, and almost cringed when Impa stopped affixing her headdress to raise a surprised eyebrow.

"You don't have to, Princess. I cannot make you. But are you willing to let a fear of the unknown control you? Especially after I, a person you trust, have told you what to expect?"

She lowered her head miserably and sighed. "I guess not."

"Some things are going to change, Zelda." It wasn't often Impa used her given name; when she did, it always seemed to imply great importance on the words. "In the castle, your father did the ruling for you. But you remember how you felt the first time you saw Ganondorf. You knew action was required; you knew what your dream was telling you about the fairy boy, and what you had to do."

"His name is Link," Zelda interjected without much thought.

"Yes, Link." For a moment, the princess thought she detected a spark of warm humour in her guardian's tone, but it was gone as quickly as it had come and Zelda wasn't sure she hadn't imagined it. "You did those things, you set them in motion for change. And now you must continue to be responsible for the path you chose. I know you are still young, and it is natural to be afraid and to have doubts. But you must be true to the path, to your destiny, if you are going to save your kingdom."

"I know." Zelda sat up against the back of the chair and checked the position of her headdress with her hands. "And I put such a large task in front of Link. To help him I need to be ready to do my part, too, when the time comes." She stood and idly glanced a quick farewell around the small, spare cabin that had housed them before turning to her guardian and raising her hand to be taken.

She had woken up after the long ride on Fidel to find herself tucked into a soft bed in a corner of a tiny rustic room. Ductile rushes had met her bare feet when she'd stepped down to the floor and a breath of fresh air had made her aware of the uncovered eastern window, already bursting with sunlight. It was a kind of a safe house, she'd found out from Impa, who had already prepared a meal and drawn a bath, built entirely out of white cedar wood and resting just inside the Sheikah border. Quaint and completely out of Ganondorf's reach; they had made it between what Zelda had realized was one Task and a series of others.

Impa took her hand and led her out of the house.

Fidel was grazing nearby, but raised his head as they approached, restless again for activity. Zelda had never been able to ride him at a gallop before and he was evidently pleased for the time being with the idea of repeating the unusual exercise.

Without the haste required in their escape, Impa let Zelda hoist herself into the saddle before she mounted behind her. And then, with a gentle whisk of the reins, they were off at a trot along a path that the princess thought surely should've been overgrown by now with under-use.

"You understand, Princess, that I also have a duty in this."

There were woods close to their left, and the sound of water running. Zelda raised herself, hoping to catch of glimpse of something between the trees. Who knew that uncultivated wildlife could be so beautiful, so thrilling?

"I…may not always be with you."

Zelda sat down heavily in surprise and turned in the saddle to look at her guardian. But Impa's attention was focused wholly on the path. "What do you mean? Isn't your duty to protect me?"

"And to help you, Princess. Your change in responsibility has predictably altered mine. In order to help you, I may have to leave you for a time."

"But…" Zelda was uncomfortably aware for a split second how much she wished she could take it all back, make everything the way it was again, pretend she hadn't had a dream about that boy and his fairy. "…to do what?"

"I don't know yet."

"Then how do you know you'll have to leave?"

"Princess, look at your right hand."

Zelda scoffed a little, faintly suspicious that Impa was trying to change the subject, but did as she was told. "I don't see anything."

"Look closer."

She did. And caught her breath. Invisible to anyone not looking for it, now shining fit to dim the sun, was a golden triangle within a triangle just above her wrist. Pulsing slightly with the flow of her blood, warm on her skin like a real presence, terrifying in meaning…

"It is the Triforce of Wisdom, hidden in your body. It tells us that Link has entered the Sacred Realm, and has, by no fault of his own, allowed Ganondorf to follow him. Ganondorf has tried to take the Triforce for himself, and it has split itself into three pieces to protect the world against his evil. He has probably taken the Triforce of Power into his own body. Link has likely been given the Triforce of Courage."

Zelda remained silent for a moment longer, digesting this, wondering how much harder the task she'd laid on Link, and herself, had now become. "Does that mean all is lost?" she asked, and heard her voice tremble in expectation of the answer.

"Would I have even bothered to get you ready for the council if it was?"

She settled a little and lowered her hand. The triangle faded out of sight and she wished she could be comforted by the knowledge that it was still there, hidden, an ancient power inside of her that she didn't understand. "How do you know all of this?"

"We Sheikah have ways."

Which, Zelda knew from experience, was all of the answer she was going to get on that subject. "So you're going to have to leave me?"

"Yes, Princess, I believe so. Your fairy boy is now going to need all of the help he can get. Ganondorf is going to want to put the pieces of the Triforce back together."

Zelda lay close against Fidel's mane and inhaled the lingering scent of the stables, his steady gait rocking her to and fro reassuringly.

"But I will return, if I can, before you are needed. I may not be gone more than a few months. And I will, of course, not leave you unprovided for."

Zelda made no reply. She was suddenly feeling cold and alone and afraid, overwhelmed by the responsibility of things she had no idea how to fulfill, and undeserving of the trust every man, woman, and child in Hyrule, in the world, had been forced to place on her, and her choice of heroes.

* * *

The council was made up primarily of older members of the Sheikah who seemed largely swayed by the voice of one particularly tall and voluble man. Impa stood before the table in the large stone building and did most of the talking. After presenting her sworn charge, the princess Zelda, possibly the Queen of Hyrule considering that her father may have been killed in Ganondorf's attack (here, Zelda made a brief obeisance), she went on to detail the exact specifications of her duty to the royal family, frequently citing the words 'protection' and 'safety'. 

When she'd finished, the apparent spokesman, a man of perhaps fifty years with thin, sharp features and closely cropped white hair, raised his large voice to speak. Zelda made great effort not to hide from any part of the proceedings, though she knew she was visibly trembling. No one, she was sure, had ever spoken so severely within her hearing. No one who was not Ganondorf, at least.

"The royal family has been overthrown by Ganondorf, is this not so? Impa, daughter of Oprain, it appears you have failed in your duty to protect the king from his enemies. What say you to that? Do we still have a duty to protect the princess, or Queen, if you prefer, when neither she nor her father is sitting on the throne?"

"We do, Orator. As long as a member of the royal family lives, our duty is to protect them."

"Is that so?" There was no flicker of emotion from the council, but Zelda received an impression of precise amusement from them nonetheless. "What if I propose that this Gerudo man, who has taken the kingdom by force, is now in place of the royal family and now requires our 'protection'?"

Zelda couldn't help a small gasp at the idea and glanced quickly at Impa, wondering if they could be serious. The Sheikah, it was held through history, had always protected the royal family, the same bloodline for ages. There hadn't been a war in centuries; in point of fact, that last war had been the start of the treaty between the Sheikah and the Hylians. Could the duty of the Sheikah be so quickly transferred, attached only to the particular blood seated on the throne?

But Impa didn't seemed disturbed; Zelda wasn't sure whether or not to be comforted. Impa had a stone face at the best of times.

"Then I propose a scenario. You have had the title of Orator passed down to you, through your bloodline. Your son expects to inherit the position, with all of the respect and benefits it entails, when you die. You are older than myself; you have not had the same training; I propose that I could defeat you fairly in a challenge. Do you agree that this would make me Orator, and from that moment the position would be passed down through my bloodline?"

The Orator did not answer right away, his eyes steely and steady, seeming to bore into Impa. The contest of wills, for that's what it appeared to be, seemed to Zelda to last forever, until she almost wanted to yell out every terrible thing she knew of Ganondorf so they would know who they were thinking of protecting. And then the Orator spoke. "What would you have the council do for the princess of Hyrule?"

Zelda felt like sighing in relief, but kept the sentiment to herself.

"I propose the council let her stay within the community as long as is needful, providing food and shelter and clothing for her until the time is right for her to leave. I also propose that she be given a maidservant for the times when I am not in attendance…"

"No."

Zelda almost couldn't believe for a moment that she'd heard her own voice. But then she felt the eyes of everyone come to rest on her and knew she had to continue if she wanted this decision to reflect her own desires. She took a breath and, courage failing at the last moment as she glanced into the piercing grey eyes of the Orator, she turned to Impa.

"I don't need a maidservant. I can wash and dress myself."

"If you wish," Impa answered simply and she turned back to the council. "I also propose she be taught with the other children and treated with the same care and attention they receive."

"She is not Sheikah," the Orator observed flatly.

"I have had a hand in raising her. She is a swift learner and will know what to expect."

There was a long silence in the stone chamber as the council seemed to consider all of the requests together. And then the Orator raised his hand. "All in agreement?"

It was quickly decided. Every hand was raised.

"It will be done. You make take her where you wish for now, but we require that she be present for instruction with the other children tomorrow."

"It will be done."

Impa made a short bow and ushered Zelda back into the sunlight. To the princess, it felt like coming back to life out of a dank, echoing tomb.

"We are a people of custom," Impa said to the unspoken question. "You will be safe here, no one will harm you, but you may find it strange for awhile. I suggest you simply do as you are told for the time being; my people are not familiar with the habits of the rest of the world."

"Habits?"

"Such as free play, except for the very young, and time spent in idleness. If you are uncomfortable with our customs, you don't have to obey them; as they said, you are not Sheikah. But you may find it…lonely, that way."

Zelda silently wished that Impa hadn't felt it necessary to help Link, even though it was for the good of Hyrule, so that they could've stayed in the cabin by the woods and the running water. "You're not leaving right away, though, are you?"

"No, Princess. But soon." She held out her hand for Zelda to take. "Come, I have accommodations here. We can eat and rest before I show you any more of the village."

The princess raised her fingers into her guardian's larger ones, trying not to let her hesitation show, and let herself be led away from the stone structure at her back that she hoped never to have to enter again.


	3. The Boy in the Tree

Disclaimer: I don't own anything even remotely related to _The Legend of Zelda_. I've actually only played through _Ocarina of Time_ and _Majora's Mask_, so I'm not even a true devotee. Don't sue.

The Boy in the Tree

by: thelittletree

(Thank you toreaders and reviewers! This fic is turning out to be a lot of fun!)

* * *

"Do you really think my father is dead?" 

Zelda had been sitting in the same place for what felt like hours, just looking out of the window. Impa had some books, but nothing that had interested her; so, after a succinct tour around the village that had introduced her to the school house, the subdued markets, the temple, the roads between residences that eventually dwindled into cropland, and several austere, faintly curious inhabitants, the princess had returned with Impa to her small but sturdy 'accommodations'. A stonework building with no more than the basic necessities, for which her guardian had briefly apologized, but large and comfortable enough to house the two of them.

And yet, although she was tired, more tired than she thought she'd ever been before, she couldn't seem to relax enough to shut her mind down for the night. Gone were the days when her biggest concern had been whether or not she was going to be able to remember which was the salad fork. From here, all of her life before seemed like a kind of unbelievable, cotton-wrapped dream.

She turned from the window, her headdress and coif long discarded, and felt the evening wind start to pick gently at her hair. Far from making her smile at the tender brush of freedom, it almost annoyed her. "Impa?"

Impa glanced up from her meditation. It had surprised Zelda initially to find that Impa meditated. There were a lot of things, she imagined, that she didn't know about her guardian.

"Princess…" For a moment, Zelda half expected to be brushed off. This was Impa's house, and they had never been forced to spend every hour together; there were undoubtedly schedules long practiced at the castle that her presence was now interrupting. But then the Sheikah woman unfolded herself from her cross-legged position and met Zelda's gaze attentively. "I wish, for your sake, that he might be. But you know as well as I that Ganondorf is not a man inclined to mercy. I am not saying that we should lose hope, but we must be prepared for the possibility."

Zelda nodded faintly and returned her gaze to the unfamiliar vista outside of the window: stone structures, minor orchards, no children anywhere. Perhaps it wasn't so different. Her father, the king; would Ganondorf have kept him alive? And for what? To torture him? She shuddered a little, thinking of her beloved father in that position, in pain, wondering where she was and, perhaps, wishing for death…

Her tears were hot and quiet, and Impa left her to grieve undisturbed, though she did unobtrusively drape a coarse woolen blanket over her charge's young shoulders after a few minutes.

Hours later, lying awake on the straw mattress Impa had given her, she came to the hardest conclusion she had ever known: perhaps death wasn't the worst fate that could've befallen her father. And then she fell into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

The next morning, she declined her guardian's offer and took herself, alone, to the school house. Impa was right, her responsibilities had changed with the path she had chosen. She was a princess; someday she would be queen. It was time, whether or not she felt ready, to stand up and start acting the part. 

She had never really been around other children. Though she had heard the shrieks and games of the children in town happily crooning on the wind toward the castle, and her imagination had wistfully been able to fill in the rest.

These children, however, seemed nothing like the children she had pictured from her bedroom window. They sat tranquilly at their desks; if they were speaking to each other, they did it quietly, composedly. They didn't smile, they didn't laugh. They all seemed so much older than herself, tall and slim and attractive so that, in comparison, she felt like an ugly, awkward urchin, something altogether new to her. But the teacher had obviously been told about her beforehand and wasn't going to let her hesitate for long in the doorway.

The teacher was young; younger than Impa, at least. His hair brown as bark in places, but white in others as if he hadn't quite reached a level of enlightenment. His face was vaguely friendly, round and touched with colour, and his hands were gentle in their urging. She found herself being seated at a bench and desk beside a red-haired girl before she realized it. The girl only glanced at her once, placidly, before turning her attention again to the teacher.

"Apprentices, we have an addition to our class. Would you stand and introduce yourself, please?"

Zelda felt her stomach drop into her toes. But she obediently got to her feet, ignoring the impulse to turn and look at the faces around her. "My name is…"

There was a sudden, rapid knocking at the door. Undisturbed, the teacher held up a hand for silence and went to answer it.

"Orator. Is there a problem?"

The Orator didn't enter the room, but Zelda could picture him perfectly from his tone of voice. "Is my son here?"

"No, I have not seen him…"

"Are you positive?" Now the Orator did step in, dressed in a black robe, very unlike the dull, unhampered clothing of the rest of the Sheikah Zelda had seen so far. "Sheik? Show yourself!"

"He is not here, your grace. If you wish, I can send someone to look…"

"Yes, do that. Right away. I have no time today." And, with a swish of his dark robe, the Orator swept out of the room as briskly as he had come.

Zelda only realized at this point that she was still standing. She couldn't help herself; she glanced around. But no one seemed to be looking at her. She sighed inwardly in relief and unobtrusively took her seat again.

The teacher pointed briefly at the back of the room and gestured for his target to approach. It was a boy of light colouring, round of face like the teacher, and with a particular energy to his step. "Edrich, you know where to look. Find Sheik and bring him to class."

"Yes, Father." The boy hurried out the door.

The teacher closed it after him and turned his attention back to Zelda. She steeled herself to stand again.

"I apologize for the interruption. Please, child, tell us your name."

She got to her feet and looked hastily at the sea of eyes around her. There didn't seem to be any particular animosity toward a stranger in their midst and it gave her a little courage. "Zelda. My name is Zelda."

A sound, rapidly muffled, erupted suddenly from the back of the room. Zelda tried to pretend she hadn't heard it as she sat once more, but she knew her face was getting hot as the teacher blithely introduced himself as Hari, the instructor.

It had been a laugh. No use deceiving herself. Someone, impossible to tell if it had been a boy or a girl, had laughed, perhaps at her name, or her dress, or some other thing about her that had amused or offended. Not that she had to let it bother her, she decided.

But she kept her eyes turned forward for the remainder of the class.

Edrich returned an hour later, step no less energetic despite the fact that he was alone. Instructor Hari didn't seem bothered by the failure to locate the Orator's son.

* * *

There was a midday break when the sun reached its zenith. Impa was standing outside, waiting to take her home to eat. When they reached the house, however, it became apparent that her guardian had had another reason for bringing her back. 

"You will find your dress constricting this afternoon. Theses clothes may not be an exact fit, but they should be close enough to allow both movement and comfort. Here, give me your dress for now and then sit down to eat."

Impa helped her out of her dress and she sat down at the table in her underclothes, not quite sure if she should be uncomfortable. "I was fine this morning. Why do I have to change?"

"Sheikah children are trained from an early age. I think you would benefit from such training. You are young enough, your muscles will adapt quickly."

Bread and fruit and eggs and seeds. Perhaps they didn't eat meat at all. "Trained for what?"

"For the protection of Hyrule, Princess. One Sheikah is chosen to be the guardian of the royal family, but they are chosen through a series of tests. Every child must be ready. Just as you must be."

"But I've never trained before." Impa had folded the dress up, and Zelda was faintly relieved when she simply set it aside instead of trying to put it away anywhere.

"They are simple exercises at this age. I know you will be able to do them."

"But…"

"Enough talk. You need to eat now." Her guardian sat down and, after a brief prayer, began unequivocally to serve them lunch.

* * *

If the morning had been momentarily awkward before they had delved into their letters, the afternoon was positively riddled with embarrassments. The clothing Impa had given her was obviously too loose compared to the other children's, there was no way to escape notice when she fumbled the unfamiliar exercises amidst the ideal examples of balance and poise all around her, and it was almost worse when the instructor approached her and suggested that she sit outside of the circle until they were done, as if she'd been misbehaving. 

It wasn't fair, she decided, to be treated like an outsider one minute, and then ignored or brushed off for being an outsider the next. She was trying her best; they didn't have to be so silent and condescending. So she'd never done exercises before. Was that wrong? She was a princess. She was going to be queen. She wouldn't ever need to be able to raise her foot to a right angle in order to rule her kingdom. What was the point of all of this?

But she already knew the point, and couldn't in all honesty feel sorry for herself for very long. Link was out there, fighting for Hyrule, bleeding for Hyrule, pushing himself to his very limits for Hyrule. For her, too, she remembered. And she was sulking in the grass like the spoiled princess she was. And why? Because she had never been laughed at in her life and her royal highness didn't like it one bit. These were commoners, they had no right, she was going to be Queen!

A selfish, uncaring Queen at this rate.

Abruptly, she wished more than anything in the world that she could curl up in her father's lap and have him stroke her hair and tell her that everything was going to work out, she didn't have to worry herself, she was his little princess and he would always be there for her.

But he wasn't here. The dream was over. She wasn't a little princess in this village to be treated delicately and with respect. She was the Hylian stranger who had come requesting protection and, like Impa, the Sheikah would not sugar coat anything for her. She was going to have to grow up if she was going to become the ruler she had to be, for her people. For Link.

But first, she realized, feeling herself tear up, she was going to have to go and have a good cry.

A glance around herself showed her a private glade of sturdy, ancient trees no more than half a mile behind the school, and that right now no one was watching her. She could just slip away and then return when she saw the other children finish with their training. No one had to even know she was gone.

Quietly, carefully, she got to her feet. And then she ran as fast as her legs could carry her.

The area beneath the trees was as cool and soothing as appearances had led Zelda to believe. The trunks and canopies seemed to block out the rest of the world, and for a moment she could almost believe that she had left everything and everyone else far behind. Stepping over knotty roots that poked up through the grass and weeds, she made her way deeper into the grove, trying to see everything at once. The courtyard of the castle had always been maintained by professional gardeners: trees small and symmetrical, bushes well pruned, lawn cut until every blade was the same height. She had thought it was the greatest expression of beauty.

Until now. She took a deep breath of the air and couldn't help an invigorated smile; she thought she might even be able to forget why she'd come here in the first place.

The grove was bigger than it had looked from the outside. Birds chirped cheerfully from their perches, squirrels chattered as they jumped blithely from tree to tree. Zelda wished suddenly that she could just come here everyday instead of going to classes. But that was no real answer; and then her problems were weighing on her just as heavily as before. Angrily, she felt the tears begin again, and she wiped them away in vain every few moments as she continued forward.

Unexpectedly, she stepped out into a clearing. Squinting against her abrupt re-exposure to the sun, she raised an arm up to shield her face; but soon her eyes became accustomed to the light. She looked around.

It wasn't a large clearing; certainly not as large as the courtyard. And the grass here was longer than that of the forest, nearly to her knees. But all was still and silent; any breeze that might've been was blocked by the trees. With a sniffle, Zelda began to wade through the grass toward the middle of the clearing, disturbing a butterfly or two as she went. It really was beautiful here. But, right now, it was hard to properly appreciate it. She sat down in the grass.

And began to have a suitably first-rate cry.

"Get out of my forest."

Zelda glanced up in startled confusion to find the source of the voice; a boy, by the sounds of it. But there was no one around. She wiped her face and got to her feet again. "It's not your forest, is it?" she demanded, not sure if she was more upset about being observed or the discourteous interruption.

There was no answer for a few moments, but Zelda thought she could hear someone moving in one of the trees. She glanced up into the leaves and branches around her and still couldn't see anyone. "Who are you?" she tried again, not caring that her voice was unsteady. They had probably seen her crying; they had no idea what she was going through. She was not going to put her manners back on in the face of such inconsiderate rudeness. "This isn't your forest. I have as much right to be here as you do."

"It is my forest. And I'm ordering you to get out."

She laughed a little, surprised by the ring of authority in the boy's tone. "You can't order me to do anything. You're just a boy."

"And you're a trespasser. My father is the Orator, and everything you see is under the guardianship of my family. You can't go anywhere without our…_my _permission."

Zelda felt enlightened. The Orator's son; this was the boy the instructor has sent his son to find, without success. "Well, I'm the princess of Hyrule, and you're in trouble for not being in class today. Your father was looking for you."

There was a sudden rustle of leaves from above, in a tree to her left, though it stilled quickly enough. "I don't have to attend classes," the boy (Sheik, Zelda seemed to remember) declared impatiently, though his tone seemed to have lost a little of its brash confidence. "I already know everything I need to know to be the Orator."

"I already know everything I need to know to be a princess, and I have to go," Zelda retorted, and only realized after she'd said it how much it had sounded like a complaint.

"Then why aren't you there now?"

That was a good question. "Because I can't do the exercises," she answered as honestly as she cared to. "You're father seemed to think you should've been there," she added, not eager to explain herself further.

"My father thinks I should do a lot of things. But I'm going to be the guardian of the royal family one day." There was another sudden rustle, and Zelda gasped a little as a boy, not much taller than herself and with a shock of yellow hair that hung half over his face, dropped down into a crouch directly in front of her. He wore blue, a dark, attractive contrast to her drab brownish outfit, and might've come across more like the son of the Orator if his clothes hadn't been dirty and ripped in places from climbing in trees all day. "Were you telling the truth?" he asked abruptly, looking her over and seeming to seriously contemplate her attire. "Are you really the princess of Hyrule?"

"I am," she answered, and stood a little straighter. "My name is Zelda."

This boy didn't laugh, or even show the slightest hint of amusement at her name. "Zelda," he repeated shortly. And then, "You don't look very royal."

She scoffed slightly, not exactly offended. She knew what she looked like. Impa had even brought her a small mirror. "That's because I'm not wearing my dress or my headpiece."

"Sounds uncomfortable." He was walking around her now, slowly, as if she was some oddity to be examined.

It immediately made her feel self-conscious, but at least someone here was acting like a regular person, not all stiff and silent. "It's not. I told you my name, the proper thing to do is introduce yourself."

"Sheik," he mumbled briefly, and finished his examination. "You look fine to me. Why can't you do the exercises?"

"It's not that I _can't_ do them," she tried to explain. "I just…don't know how."

"They're easy."

"Maybe for you. You've lived here all your life." It was strange, she thought. Link had been the first time she'd ever had a conversation with someone her own age, and he had been wide-eyed and fairly quiet the whole time. This boy was nothing like that; in fact, he seemed completely willing to believe that he knew everything better than everyone else.

"That shouldn't make a difference."

"Well, it does. I should go back before someone looks for me. The classes are probably almost finished." She began to wade through the grass again toward the trees. She'd come here expecting some privacy in which to weep herself weary, but bantering with this boy had done the same thing: sometimes people just had to do the hard things they didn't want to do, or they would never get done.

"Wait."

She glanced over her shoulder and came to a slow halt. "Yes?"

"You can come back here tomorrow." He was standing straight, almost the epitome of gracious sovereign, if not for the rips in his clothing. "I promise to teach you the exercises, if you promise to tell me what a guardian of the royal family needs to do."

She almost said no right away. Impa wanted her to attend classes; she couldn't just not go. It was her duty to make sure she was prepared for the future. But then she began to think. One more afternoon, and would anyone really miss her? Sheik could teach her the exercises, and then she could go to class the next day and be able to participate. Maybe…

She nodded slightly.

"Good. Tomorrow." And, with a speed that surprised her, he hopped up to grab the nearest branch and disappeared back into the trees.

Zelda returned to watch the last of the exercises, feeling somehow lighter, more hopeful than before. And when the teacher called them back into the building, it quickly became obvious to her that no one had even noticed she'd been gone. Tomorrow, she determined resolutely. She would start the journey to becoming the princess Hyrule needed in order to help the Hero of Time.


	4. When Push Comes to Shove

Disclaimer: I don't own anything even remotely related to _The Legend of Zelda_. I've actually only played through _Ocarina of Time_ and _Majora's Mask_, so I'm not even a true devotee. Don't sue.

When Push Comes to Shove

by: thelittletree

(Sorry, I know there isn't much action going on in this fic. I actually didn't mean to spend so much dang time building the characters and situation. Oh well, it's done. And, no worries to some of you die-hard Zelda fans! I don't mean to mess with too much of the canon stuff. Though I may dabble, just a tad. Try to keep an open mind! Think 'what if'.By the way, thanks for reading and for reviews! Heh, I'm surprised every time someone wanders over from my FFVII fanfic to read this. Thanks much for believing this might not suck!)

* * *

"Lift your leg higher, like this. Higher." 

Sheik stood on one foot in the middle of the glade, one leg out at a steady right angle from the rest of him as if it was the simplest thing in the world to do. His tone, and what the princess could see of his expression, seemed to be getting more impatient by the moment.

"I can't move it higher," Zelda said, and it was the absolute truth. It was also difficult to keep her balance with the wind blowing the leaves overhead, and a squirrel in a nearby tree chattering angrily at the invasion of its privacy. She had thought in the beginning that an enclosed glade was the perfect place to practice, free of distractions. Free of distractions if you had grown up knowing these distractions by heart, she'd realized too late. The castle courtyard had never been so busy with movement and noise.

Sheik dropped his leg and sighed heavily, and Zelda caught a quick glimpse of his face as he brushed his bangs back, before the stubborn fall of hair returned to cover it. He had a high forehead, well-spaced eyes, and what appeared to be a straight, strong nose. And cheeks that, had he been anything but Sheikah, she could easily imagine split with an impish grin now and then.

"I can't teach you if you're not going to try," he reproached her, as if they'd been at this for hours instead of only a few minutes..

"I _am _trying," she insisted, softening her tone almost immediately. If both of them were frustrated, the last thing they needed was for one of them to get angry. "I just can't…hold myself like this." She gave her own sigh and put her foot back on the ground, perturbed by the ache of untested muscles. No princess, in all the generations of princesses before her, she was sure, had ever had any reason to do anything so tediously strenuous.

"Let's take a break, then." He kicked indifferently at a patch of grass and sat down. Zelda thought about how much time she probably had left before someone missed her, and then sat down, too. They could take a short break, she decided. Though she wasn't about to let him give up on her so easily.

They had chosen spots about five yards apart from each other, but the grass came up just an inch or two shy of their shoulders. Zelda felt suddenly shielded and very comfortable, surrounded on all sides by this barrier of green. No wonder Sheik came here to escape classes; no wonder he'd wanted to claim it for his own. It did feel very private and secure from the rest of the world. She supposed it was a kind of compliment to have been invited back.

"So, what does your guardian do for you at the castle?"

Ah yes, now Zelda remembered their bargain. She picked casually at the head of a weed as she thought. "Well, she used to help me dress and draw me baths. And she would attend me at dinner and at bedtime and during my lessons." In the end, she realized, it didn't sound like a very appealing job. Impa had said she was there to protect the royal family; what protecting had she ever had to do before now? "She guarded me from harm, I suppose, during the day. And her chamber was connected to mine in case I needed her protection during the night."

Sheik seemed to continue listening for a moment even after she'd finished speaking. "Is that all?" he asked finally.

"Well, no. She brought me here when the castle was under attack."

"Under attack." It wasn't a question; it was almost a wistful whisper. "Who attacked you?" he demanded, his tone direct and brooking no discretion in what she was learning to accept was simply his way; he probably didn't even realize how imperious he sounded most of the time.

"A Gerudo man who wanted my father's throne," she said, and silently added 'and the Triforce'. "Impa saved me to protect my bloodline, and so that I can return to help rescue Hyrule when the time is ready."

"When will that be?"

He was leaning forward, she realized, the eye she could see wide and attentive. His iris was almost a dark enough blue to be considered purple. He was not like the rest of the Sheikah around her, she thought for a second time. And not like her. She was completely happy with her life as a princess. Sometimes, she admitted, she had wished for more freedoms, but on the whole she hadn't dreamed often enough about adventure to make her despise her destiny. He, on the other hand, seemed completely unsatisfied with his position as the Orator's son. She felt a strange, vague sort of pity for him; if she hadn't wanted to be queen, but had known deep-down that she would probably someday have to be, she imagined she would want to escape, too.

"I don't know," she answered, and the very uncertainty made her sure that she was going to have to make herself as ready as possible, as soon as possible. Who said the day for revenge couldn't be as close as tomorrow? "We have to wait at least until the Hero of Time has the Master Sword. Impa says I will know when the time comes." Her eyes fell automatically to the back of her hand, as if she expected to see the evidence of what was inside of her glowing as she spoke. But there was nothing. She turned her eyes away again, half afraid to call it unnecessarily to the surface.

"How will you know?"

Zelda sighed. "I don't know," she repeated and got to her feet, wiping stray bits of grass from her clothes. "Will you show me again, how to do that exercise?"

Sheik didn't stand right away, and the princess had the feeling he had other questions he wanted to ask her about her guardian and life in the castle. But they only had so much time.

He seemed to realize it, too. His mouth tightened briefly into what was almost a resigned frown before he got up in one brisk, fluid motion. "All right. Maybe you just need…practice."

She nodded and, determined to watch him carefully, came a full three steps closer.

* * *

By the time she reappeared on the school yard, Zelda had managed to complete a couple of clumsy moves and felt at least a little better about the training. It wasn't impossible; Sheik had been right, she just needed some practice. As Impa had said, her muscles would adapt, but they needed her time and diligence and patience, something most of the Sheikah here seemed to carry in abundance. 

She rejoined the group of children as the circle broke apart, just as she had the other day, and felt relieved at first to think that no one had noticed her slip away this second time either. But then she felt someone's gaze on the back of her neck. She debated, for a moment, the decision to turn around; it might be considered an admission of guilt if the person thought they'd seen something. But then she couldn't help it. What if they knew the truth?

It was a pretty-ish girl, taller than herself, with long nut brown hair that almost fell in curls and an expression that seemed somewhat calculating, as if she'd guessed where Zelda had been and was trying to decide how best to use the information to her advantage. The princess tried to smile a little, as if she didn't suspect why someone might be watching her, and followed the rest of the children into the building.

* * *

The next day, the princess caught a glimpse of Sheik for a moment outside of his forest. On her way to school, a ripple of a familiar blue in her peripheral vision made her turn her head, and there he was, darting from behind one final village dwelling before ducking into the school yard. She wondered, at first, if he was thinking about attending. 

But he wasn't in the classroom when she sat down at her desk. His father, however, was. The Orator stood at the front of the room speaking in low, urgent tones with the teacher, and the few words Zelda was able to catch, not that she was _obviously_ listening, led her to believe the Orator had meant to bring his son straight to school, and Sheik had managed to elude him, _again, _in a moment of distraction.

He was a stubborn boy, determined to get his own way no matter the consequences. She could at least say that about him. But, as she was learning, sometimes running and hiding wasn't the best way to follow your dreams. Though he would have to learn that himself, and probably the hard way.

"Excuse me, Orator."

Zelda turned with all of the other eyes in the room to look at the owner of the voice. It was that girl, the princess noted with a momentary flash of unease; the girl who had stared the day before when she'd come back from the glade, as if she had known exactly what she'd been up to. She was standing at the back, her face set and her chin lifted in a kind of resolved certainty; her eyes, however, still appeared to Zelda to have a kind of calculating remoteness to them.

The instructor stepped forward to address his student as the Orator frowned at the unexpected interruption. "The Orator is very busy, Crea. What do you wish to say?"

"There is someone here who knows where your son is, Orator."

Zelda felt something cold and heavy drop into her stomach even as her face began to flush. No, no, she was going to get into trouble, she hadn't meant to cause any trouble, she'd just wanted things to work out, she wasn't really involved…

The Orator stepped forward then, not bothering to wait for the instructor to ask. "Who?" His eyes were suddenly on all of them. "Which of you knows? Where is he?"

Zelda felt her teeth inadvertently chatter together as she breathed. But it was probably better to own up to the knowledge than to be pointed out. She licked her lips. "I do."

The Orator's eyes were as gray and steely as she remembered when he looked at her and she felt as small and vulnerable as she had in the dim, stone council room. She put her hands in her lap to keep them from trembling. He recognized her, she saw after a second, even without her dress and headpiece. The Hylian, she could almost hear him thinking.

"Where did you see him, child?" His voice had softened marginally, though his expression remained as indomitable as before.

Zelda lowered her face. She had committed herself; she couldn't back down now. But Sheik…she hadn't meant to give him away. He'd been helping her, and she'd sort of hoped he would continue to help her. How was it that she kept becoming responsible for things she barely understood? "In the trees, behind the school. The glade," she answered, unable to raise her eyes.

The Orator was away with a flutter of his robe. The instructor followed him for a couple of steps, as if he would lend a hand himself, but then he seemed to remember his place. "Edrich, go help the Orator find his son."

"Yes, Father."

The other children were looking at her, Zelda knew, but she only spared a glance for their curious, unreadable gazes. The only one that gave her much pause was the gaze of the girl, Crea, who was again seated calmly at her desk and looking coolly at the princess as if she'd won something from her. Zelda wasn't sure what to make of that, so she turned forward and determined to simply sit and do as she was told for the rest of her stay.

It was less than an hour later when the Orator and the instructor's son returned, the Orator firmly leading a sullen, grass-smudged Sheik by the elbow. Sheik had been crying, Zelda could see, though now he was silent and staring resentfully at the floor. His father escorted him decisively to a desk and practically forced him to take a seat.

"Now, you will stay here for the rest of the day, and tomorrow you will attend just as you are supposed to. I do not want to have to do this again."

A black cloud, still muffling and tense with spent thunder, seemed to hover over the room even after the Orator had left as Sheik roughly wiped at his eyes and opened his books. And, no matter how many times Zelda tried to assure herself that there was nothing else she could've done, it wasn't her fault, it would've happened someday anyway, the cold stone of guilt weighed heavily in her gut until the lunch hour.

Impa was waiting for her again and Zelda thought she'd never been so happy to see her guardian before. She was more than ready to spill out her side of the story, truancy and all, and especially to Impa who would understand that Zelda hadn't meant to do any wrong. But, before she could attract her guardian's attention, she was pulled aside at the door and dragged around a corner of the building.

"You told them," Sheik accused immediately, and the princess was somewhat taken aback by his anger. She'd never had anyone accuse her of anything before.

"I had to," she defended automatically. "Someone saw me coming from the forest."

He continued to glare at her as he absorbed this bit of information, though it didn't appear to do anything to cool his temper. "You didn't have to tell them I was there," he huffed. "You could've…"

Zelda didn't let him finish. She was not a troublemaker; she had never directly disobeyed her elders; she wasn't about to start now. "I wasn't going to lie," she told him firmly.

This seemed to surprise him, as if he'd never considered the things he'd been doing as bad behaviour.

It was hard to stay angry with him, she discovered then. He'd misbehaved, but only because his father seemed to be forcing him into things he didn't want to do. Now that he'd been brought back against his will who was there to blame but herself? She felt some returning sympathy despite herself and sighed. "Someone would've found you eventually. You couldn't have stayed forever in that forest."

"I wouldn't have stayed forever," Sheik protested, now mumbling toward his feet. "Just until my father realized…"

"Princess!"

Zelda glanced over her shoulder, but Impa wasn't yet in sight. She turned back to the Sheikah boy in front of her and wasn't sure what to say. "My guardian is looking for me," she told him finally. "I have to go."

She began to step away, but was arrested by his hand on her arm again. She looked back, entreating him to let go, not entirely sure what Impa might do if she found Zelda being restrained by a boy.

"Do you still want me to teach you the exercises?"

She was a little startled by the offer, considering how angry he'd been a minute ago. But then she realized. He was like an outsider among his own people: shunned and betrayed by his peers, independently defying his own destiny. Lonely, she thought, too. Perhaps she was the closest thing he'd ever had to a friend.

"Yes, all right. But only if you come to class and show me."

He smiled then. Not broadly, but his mouth was definitely curving out of its usual young gravity and even his expression, the look in the eye she could see, seemed to warm a little. Then he disappeared around the school house a moment before Impa found her.

* * *

Things changed quickly after that. Sheik began to teach her outside of the circle of the other children, far enough away to avoid attention, until she could do the training regime almost as well as he could. Her muscles ached, there were moments of frustration, she came home and cried more than once into the calm, reassuring embrace of her guardian. And her appetite rocketed. 

She began to spend time outside, and began to grow less afraid of the Sheikah around her. Most of them were kind, if a little austere, and most of them were deferential to Impa and could be called upon to donate clothing. Most of them, she began to understand, were just living their lives to the best of their ability in a social system Zelda eventually began to recognize for its advantages as well as its drawbacks. No one went in want; no one was left without a vocation; every Sheikah was born into a sense of who they were as a part of a whole.

And Zelda began to feel almost as comfortable as she had in the castle.

And then Impa left.

Zelda was placed with a family who had a child of their own, the red-haired girl Zelda sat beside in class and had become acquaintances with. They kept her well-fed, gave her a comfortable, private place to sleep, cared for as well as Impa had done. But nothing was the same. Her guardian had been her last tie to who she really was: the princess of Hyrule. Without her, she felt like she was drifting, trying to find a foothold in a place that had no real place for outsiders.

Impa had kissed her. Smoothed back her hair. Told her to be strong and to keep up with her training, and she would be back very soon, in a month if she could. And Zelda had done her best not to beg her to stay, though she'd cried harder than she ever had before, as if her world was ending. It might've been the truth. Her father was dead; she was alone, an orphan, easily mistaken for a nobody.

It was like being delivered from a pit the day she came to realize what friendship was really for. When Sheik came to visit her one evening, holding something carefully wrapped in a cloth under his arm. When he took her to sit with him on the steps of Impa's stone house, their backs to the darkened windows, and lifted off the cloth to reveal a small harp.

He wasn't very good, the result of not enough practicing, Zelda thought. But it made her smile, even more when he attempted to teach her how to play.

She knew, then, that she would be all right. Things might never, ever be the same; she might never be the same princess she had been. But she would be all right.

And so a year passed.


End file.
